Affinity

Chapter 8 - Class 1A Versus

A/N: Hey everyone! We hope you've been enjoying the fic so far! When we started writing it, we had kinda hoped it would take off, but it's still so mind boggling and humbling to see the number of people who've checked out, so a million times thank you to you all for reading, favouriting, following. We're always open to feedback of any kind beyond the numbers to get a feel for how our story is doing, so please don't hesitate to leave a review so we know what's working and what we can improve on, so we can give you all the best version of this fic! Just as a glance to the future, beyond Affinity, we have plans for 2 other fics: one called Ambivalence- which will pick up after the end of Affinity and be centered around Bakugo and an OC we'll be introducing later in this fic- the other is going to be Legacy, which will be kind of a next generation fic involving the legacies of some of our favourite class A students. Anyways, that's enough from us, thanks once again! Enjoy!

Emiko still found herself stewing in her anger at Mineta and Kaminari's stunt with the cheerleader outfits while she stood in the wings as Deku and Shinso got ready for their match. Though her gaze was fixed on the two students in the combat arena, her mind might as well have been a galaxy away.

The gasps and cheers of the fans reacting to the two combatants were muffled as though her ears were stuffed with cotton balls. She vaguely registered Deku slowly walking out of the ring under the effects of Shinso's quirk. A gust of strong wind snapped her out of her reverie as Deku somehow shook off Shinso's quirk, something she'd never been able to do. Shinso was stunned and Emiko spotted the telltale damage on the green haired boy's fingers that meant he had somehow used his quirk to snap out of the brainwashing.

Deku rushed forward at Shinso and began pushing him towards the boundaries as the purple haired boy raged at him, not believing how he shook off his hold. Shinso began throwing punches at his opponent, trying anything and everything to provoke the boy into answering him so he could reassert his hold on him.

Shinso momentarily seemed to turn the tables at the border, only for Deku to shift the momentum and judo flip Shinso painfully onto his back, the taller boy slamming into the concrete with a painful sounding crack. A strangled groan slipped from his lips, eyes slamming shut at the pain.

The fight ended, Shinso's feet just barely over the line.

Residual rage still simmered in her gut, flaring with each breath she took. It thrummed in her veins, a deafening bass rhythm hammering through her. Near impossible to control, it grew. As she pictured Shinso being thrown out of the ring, she saw the embarrassed faces of her friends standing there, exposed and belittled.

As Midnight proclaimed Deku's victory, Emiko's heart flip-flopped, torn between ecstasy for her classmate, and sympathetic sorrow for her friend's loss. As the crowd applauded the two contestants and they exchanged words amongst themselves. There was a brief recess and she felt her nerves begin to mount at the prospect of her upcoming match against Shoto. She thought back to the times they sparred in her dojo, and hastily forced herself out of that train of thought. He'd never used his quirk in those sessions, so this might as well be like trying to write with her other hand. She knew he was stronger than she was, physically. Though her technique and skill in hand to hand combat was higher, she knew it would be a tough matchup for her, especially given his insane strength and proficiency for creating awe inspiring boundaries of ice.

"Are you ready, everyone?!"

Present Mic's voice swirled around her, pushed anxiety into the festering rage growing inside of her. She knew, just beyond that concrete platform, Shoto stood waiting for her. Her hands trembled slightly, a sure sign of her own anxiety.

"From Class 1-A, Emiko Komatsu!"

She gave her headband from Momo a quick tug to tighten it, thankful for the relieving pressure it gave her, which helped her cope with the cauldron of emotions that reached towards the skies on each side of her as she made the long walk out of the tunnel towards the concrete arena. It bubbled and frothed, and threatened to spill over, shifting and mixing into indistinguishable, gargantuan walls that inched closer and closer to squeeze her into nothingness.